


Bad Religion

by probablysleepingin



Category: Until Dawn
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-24
Updated: 2015-12-24
Packaged: 2018-05-08 22:12:41
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,340
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5515214
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/probablysleepingin/pseuds/probablysleepingin
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It was hard to keep his head limp, eyes shut and body lax as the stench of pig’s blood invaded his senses, and the sound of intestines splattered on the ground. The saw buzzed in his ears and he wanted nothing more then to gauge his friend’s reaction. See the pain, she the hurt in those baby blues he’d followed so blindly.  </p><p>(Not anymore, never again. Never blindly, never trusting, never lovingly.)       </p><p>---</p><p>I haven't written anything in a while so to get back in the swing of things I wrote some good ol' fashioned angst!</p>
            </blockquote>





	Bad Religion

_I could never make him love me._

It was something that had lied dormant within Josh since he met Chris, but it truly blossomed and twisted Josh’s stomach and clogged his lungs with butterflies on the twins sixteenth birthday. He’d been exiled from his on house, Hannah waggling a finger in his face as Beth pushed him out the door.                                                        

“Thanks for helping us set up, but it’s a girl’s only party.” Beth laughed as she finally got him on the front porch successfully.

Once Beth had regained safety behind the door Hannah stuck her tongue out at her brother and continued to giggle with her twin. “We’re really sorry bro, but rules are rules.” And with that, she promptly shut the door.                                                                        

He sighed, shoving his hands into his jean pockets and headed down the drive way and away from the Washington Mansion. It wasn’t his plan to wonder until he arrived at his best friend’s house, but it was probably inevitable that it would be his subconscious destination.        

Walking up Christopher’s drive way Josh pulled out his phone and shot his friend a message; _Door open? I’m out the front._

Josh’s phone whistled as soon as he reached the porch step with Chris’s reply; _Yeah, m’upstairs. Parents are out._

Though Chris knew Josh was somewhere inside he hadn’t expected the dark haired boy to drop himself unexpectedly on his lap and interrupt his lazy scrolling on his phone.                                    

“Hey.” Josh grinned, shifting so he was off of the other boys lap and instead side by side. “Sorry for crashing your pad, but Beth and Han kicked me out for the night.”                                                          

Chris laughed, a deep throaty chuckle and Josh felt his chest tighten, but brushed it off as indigestion or something (He was stupid, stupid, _stupid.)_

“Don’t blame ‘em, I wouldn’t want your lame ass at my sixteenth either.”                                                                              

Josh laughed along, giving Chris a short shove. “You just turned eighteen dumbass, and I _hosted_ your sixteenth, remember.”        

“Yeah and it sucked balls, worst birthday of my life.” Chris responded playfully.                                                                                      

This continued for some bit before the two fell into the usual routine of video games and boxed meals. Their usual routine was interrupted, however when Chris sat up and paused their game of CoD.                                                                                                    

“Josh do you ever like…” Chris trailed off, biting his lip looking off to the side, thinking about how to word the gentle thought that had been simmering in his mind for a while now. “I-I know this is a little unexpected but um. Have you ever thought about like, kissing? You and me, I mean. You and me kissing.”                                            

Chris’s face had flushed completely, and the red creeped down his neck and hid behind clothing. Josh felt his stomach flutter as he cleared his throat.                                                                          

“No, uh, I can’t say I have, Cochise.”                                            

“Oh, well. Just-Just forget I said anything, then?” Chris looked anxious as he reached for play button his console, but was brought to halt half way when Josh grabbed his wrist.                          

“We can still try it, though, if you want.”                                    

It was wet, biting and sucking and lots and _lots_ of moaning. Chris had always come up with the better ideas between the two of them but Josh didn’t think he’d like an idea better than this one.        

Somewhere along the line Chris ended up in Josh’s lap, shirt missing and glasses askew. The both of them where painfully hard, and Chris showed no sign of stopping as he bit at his best friend’s neck.

Neither of them spoke about it the next morning, when they woke up naked next to each other and covered in dark bruises.

Josh wanted too (He couldn’t get the feel of Chris’s lips on his skin out of his head, no matter how hard he tried.)                          

Chris didn’t, so the topic was never breached.

_Never make him love me._

His sister’s funeral. He wouldn’t have gone, what he and the twins had was special, was sacred and all those people, even his parents (they were never home how could they care?) would just trample all over that bond. Tug and pull with their words until the death of his sisters became _real._

But Chris dragged his friend out of bed and dressed him.                    

“You have to go.” Chris whispered, helping Josh into his suit jacket. “You have to go.” He gave no reason, but Josh followed Chris’s words blindly, always blindly, full of trust. Trust and love.                  

Josh swallowed thickly, rubbed at his eyes and nodded before following Chris to his car.                                                                                    

He cried. Cried the whole time, sobbed both loud and meekly until his chest hurt and there wasn’t a single person at the serves that hadn’t offered him a tissue and their condolences. When he spoke he choked on his words and kicked the podium and screamed.    

His Dad would later say his son couldn’t go a day without making everything about him, and later Chris would punch his best friend’s Father (and wealthiest man in town) in the face for saying such things.                                                                                                

“You lose the two people closest to you, the people you practically raised because your parents where never home, and then see how you react.”                                                                                              

At the burial Josh and Chris stood side by side, hands held tightly behind each other’s backs. Josh cried and cried, and when Chris said everything would be okay Josh tried to stifle his hiccups to a small sniffle instead. Blindly he listened to Chris, blindly he trusted and blindly he loved.

( _Loved, loved, loved. He loved Chris. He loved Chris. He loved him.)_

When Sam pulled him aside to have a word, Josh glanced behind him to see Chris holding Ashley tightly. Patting her hair and kissing her face. His chest clenched, his heart deflated.

Blindly, it was all so blindly.                                                          

(But he loved Ashley, Chris loved Ashley. Not him, no, never him.)

_It’s a bad religion to be in love with someone who could never love you._

It was hard to keep his head limp, eyes shut and body lax as the stench of pig’s blood invaded his senses, and the sound of intestines splattered on the ground. The saw buzzed in his ears and he wanted nothing more then to gauge his friend’s reaction. See the pain, she the _hurt_ in those baby blues he’d followed so blindly.                            

(Not anymore, never again. Never blindly, never trusting, never lovingly.)                                                                                                

He waited, waited until he was more than positive Christopher and Ashley had evacuated the premises. Waited until there was no chance of anyone coming to check and make sure his death was _real._

He pulled himself away from the mess, and cleaned up, checking the direction of the switch. It hadn’t mattered who Chris picked ultimately, the saw was designed to cut Josh’s makeshift body in half, but he was not surprised to see the lever pointed in Ashley’s direction.                                                                                              

Josh knew where he stood, from now on, second best. Always second, always blind.                                                                            

_Only bad._

_Only bad religion._

It was cold, so cold in the mines. This wasn’t meant to happen, _those things shouldn’t have happened._ He’d followed Sam and Mike until that _thing-Hannah,_ dragged him back to where Beth’s broken grave marker sat pitifully on the ground.                                      

He was lost, alone, and cold, with only his hallucinations to keep him company.                                                                                                

He cried and screamed for help, calling desperately for Chris, always for Chris, blindly for Chris.                                                          

No one came, though, especially not Chris. Not for him, never for him.                                                                                                              

He was hungry, but he waited. Waited and wondered when the Chris that kissed him and punched his Dad in the face turned into the Chris that kissed petite red head’s and killed best friends. Josh wondered why he bothered ever telling himself he’d never follow Chris’s words ever again, because here he was, on the verge of starvation, and he was still hanging off of every single one of them                

Still he followed, trusted, loved. Blindly. Always Blindly.

_Could have me feeling the way I do._


End file.
